


Spare Odds and Sods

by LonghornLetters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, each chapter can stand alone, odds and ends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4379942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonghornLetters/pseuds/LonghornLetters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A repository for all my Sherlock drabbles.  Each chapter can stand alone, and while 95% of these will be Johnlock, I'll tag the pairing at the beginning of each chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Was Thinking Out Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnlock. I was listening to the soundtrack from Phenomenon...a true 90s classic...and, well, here you go. It's a bit of an anniversary thing.

Sherlock hummed softly in tune with his fingers picking out a song note by note on his violin as he gazed out at the deepening twilight on Baker Street.  John dozed gently on the sofa, exhausted from a case that had taken them better part of the week.  He stopped when John groaned and started scrubbing his hands through his hair and across his face.

“How long was I asleep?” John asked from behind his hands.

“Not too long, an hour maybe,” Sherlock said, still facing the window.

“Mmm...sorry about that,” John answered, “Not much of a way to spend an evening, is it?”  He sat up and shook his head to force his brain into alertness.

Sherlock turned and gifted John with one of his genuine smiles that crinkled the corners of his eyes, “How not?  I was here.  You were here.  The activity is secondary if the motivation is there.”

John stood up and made his way over to where Sherlock was still standing by the window. “What did I do to deserve you?” he asked, wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s waist.

“Need I enumerate everything?” Sherlock asked with a wry smirk as he continued to pick out the song he’d been playing earlier.  John shook his head against his back, “I thought not.”

“Smug bastard,” John laughed softly.  He started to sway slowly in time with Sherlock’s soft pizzicato.  “Dance with me?”

Sherlock turned in John’s embrace and set his violin gently on the desk before he wrapped his arm snugly around John’s shoulders.  John laced their fingers together, but instead of holding them out in the proper frame Sherlock had taught him so long ago, he turned his wrist in so he could press Sherlock’s hand into his chest.

As they swayed gently together in the silence, John picked up the song Sherlock had been playing earlier and he started humming quietly to keep them in time.  Sherlock smiled and kissed John’s hair.  John squeezed Sherlock’s fingers and lifted them to plant a kiss across his knuckles, “Happy anniversary, love.”

“Happy anniversary, John.”


	2. When You Wake Me at 3AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnlock. John and Sherlock have been watching Hannibal. John's got some questions.

“Sherlock?” John rolled over in the dark, wide awake, “Sherlock.”

“Mmm?”  Sherlock grunted from where he lay facedown on their bed, but he didn’t give any other sign of awareness.

John poked him in the ribs, “Sherlock, wake the hell up.”

In lieu of a response, Sherlock rolled over onto John’s hand, trapping it against the mattress.  John winced when Sherlock resettled and pinned his hand even tighter.

John jabbed Sherlock again with his free hand, “Sherlock bloody Holmes, you wake up this instant.”

Sherlock continued rolling until he was flat on his back, “What, John?” he groaned.

“I was thinking,” John started.

“About what?” Sherlock asked, resettling on his side and resting his head against John’s chest.

“Snails,” John murmured into to the dark.

“Snails?” Sherlock repeated, “Why on earth are you thinking about snails in the dead of night?”

John felt himself blush, “I don’t know.  Nevermind.  It’s silly.”

Sherlock raised himself up on an elbow, “No, no.  Don’t prevaricate with me.  I want to know why now.”

“I was just thinking about whether snails have feelings.”

Sherlock chuckled quietly and nestled himself down against John’s chest, “Is this because of that show?”

John huffed a soft laugh, “Yeah, I guess so.  Just, them crawling all over that poor bloke’s arm, like it was no different than a tree stump.  Made me think.”

“I think,” Sherlock paused, letting his fingers wander idly over John’s bare chest, “I think that any animal has the desire to survive.  Beyond that?  It depends on the animal.  I don’t believe snails are developed to think, ‘ah, I appear to be surviving off the fat of a severed arm, I do wonder how the previous owner feels about that.’”

John laughed and hugged Sherlock closer, “This is why I love you.”

“Why?” Sherlock asked.

“Because you let me wake you up at three in the bloody morning to talk about whether snails have feelings.”


End file.
